Silver Pistol
by skyeward
Summary: R for deathwish and lesbian content. JK, implied JS. Juri is thinking about how she's going to escape Shiori at the end of a pistol, when an unexpected savior sits beside her and saves her life. Poetry is mine.


Arisugawa Juri, the resident heartthrob and playboy of Ohtori, sat silently drowning in her own pain and wished she could bring herself to drink something more intoxicating than cola. For cola it was in the glass that she had spent the last hour staring into, thinking about the girl who seemed to so enjoy causing her pain. She had asked once, why the younger girl hurt her so much, so deliberately. The reply still burned in her mind, months later.  
"I hurt you because you're so beautiful when your eyes shine with tears that I know only I can make you shed. I hurt you because you're the knight in shining armour and I don't deserve one. But mostly, I hurt you...because you let me."  
  
Won't you let me  
Touch you?  
Won't you let me  
Drag my nails across your skin?  
Won't you let me  
Kiss you?  
Won't you let me  
Poison your very breath?  
Won't you let me do all this and smile as you bleed?  
  
And it was true. Juri had had a thousand, a million opportunities and even more reasons to end it with the girl, but she could never bring herself to do it. She kept holding on, hoping against the possibility of hope that the cruel, devilish girl would mysteriously stop wanting to hurt the one who loved her. She remembered something someone had said to her, a long time ago.  
"You live to make her happy, but she's only happy when she's hurting you. Eventually she'll break you, Juri, and nobody will be there to pick up the pieces."  
  
Please  
Break me  
Please break me  
Shatter myself  
Scatter the pieces  
Shatter myself  
Please break me  
Break me  
Please  
  
But it didn't matter anymore. Because Shiori was playing with one of her many little boys that night, and without her around, Juri could gather the courage to finish what the butterfly had started. She thought, almost fondly, of the spot she'd scoped out for her purpose, of the rosebushes as tall as a man, of the little silver pistol lying in a little silver case, sitting on the spot where Juri would die. And for the first time since the violet-haired girl had confronted her with the locket and its picture, she felt free.  
  
She's coming, so be afraid  
She's coming to steal your soul  
She's coming, to feed on your fears  
She's coming to make you her slave  
She's here, you should have run  
She's here and you'll not escape  
She's here, to break your heart  
She's here to save your life  
  
So wrapped up in the thoughts of her own upcoming death, Juri almost didn't notice the girl who seated herself beside the dying panther. Looking up from her drink, she encountered amused blue eyes under a short mop of matching hair. Kozue's mouth twitched into a smirk as Juri's eyes widened at her outfit. The wild child was wearing a black leather skirt that would have served as a belt, a blood-red thong clearly evident underneath, and a red bustier that pushed the majority of her ample charms into view, with knee-high black boots and quite a bit of silver jewelry. Propping her elbows up on the bar and turning to Juri, Kozue smiled slowly.  
"You don't look much like yourself tonight, Juri-sama."  
  
Hiding 'neath smoke-coloured lenses  
Your hair tucked up in a cap  
A long coat conceals your shape  
Baby, who're you hiding from?  
Gloves over graceful hands  
Long pants on your legs  
Long sleeves on your arms  
Baby, don't be hiding from me.  
  
Juri shrugged. Kozue was right, she didn't look like her usual self. And it was deliberate. She wore snug-fitting black slacks and a loose white blouse, her long auburn curls neatly braided and hanging down her back. She looked rather feminine, for once, and she doubted that even her most enthusiastic groupies, insert Shiori here, would recognize her on first glance. But Kozue was a very sharp girl. She had to be; otherwise she'd have been expelled long before, for her misdemeanors were legendary.  
"Maybe I'm not me, tonight. Maybe I'm somebody else."  
  
If you could be anyone  
Anybody else in the world  
Who would you be?  
Would you be her, maybe?  
Would you be him, maybe?  
Would you maybe be me?  
Who would you be?  
I know you don't want to be you.  
  
Kozue raised an eyebrow, "Somebody else? Like who? Besides..." she waved at Juri's form, "Who would want to be anyone but you?" A glare was her first answer, following a moment later by reluctant words.  
"I want to be somebody other than me. I don't know who...just not me. Not right now." Kozue shrugged.  
"Your choice."  
  
When it's you  
And it's me  
She doesn't matter  
None of them matter  
Only us  
Just you  
Just me  
Just our feelings on a lonely night  
  
The two of them sat together for a while longer, talking over many subjects, some of them mundane, some of them downright mysterious. All of it was loaded with double meanings and, from the Kozue's end, innuendo. It wasn't as if she could help that the noble pantherine girl was achingly beautiful, especially when the wild child made some sarcastic comment that made her laugh. The combination of her laughing voice, like gravel over silk, and the flashes of light and fire in her soft aqua eyes hit the blue-eyed girl right where it counted, and she made every effort to make the fencer laugh as much as possible.  
  
Can you see, girl?  
Can you see the sun, girl?  
Coming up over that way  
Coming up from the west?  
Oh, it doesn't do that normally  
But for you, I made it.  
Smile for me, girl  
As the sun rises over in the west.  
  
Before they knew it, the sun was rising and the bar was closing. They had talked the night away, and Juri had forgotten all her plans in a haze of previously unknown companionship and a rising tide of desire. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Juri felt guilty, because she knew she was about to betray Shiori, but the vast part of her mind pushed that little bit away and urged her to just say, to just break the chains that the revolution hadn't been able to. Raising her eyes to Kozue's, Juri took a deep breath.  
"Your place or mine?"  
  
Tears for her  
And tears for you  
Tears of pain  
And of pleasure  
Tears of sadness  
And of joy  
She made me cry  
You help me to cry  
  
As they fell onto Juri's bed, their clothes scattered haphazardly around the room, she had another brief flash of guilt. But when talented ruby-red lips found hers again and their tongues began that quick, rhythmic dance as old as time, it disappeared like the mirage it was. During that enchanted Sunday morning, Juri learned that there were many reasons to cry, and not all of them were painful. She never did go back for the little silver pistol. 


End file.
